Shepeherds' First Winter; Episode 18. Believers

This is the eighteenth episode of the novel Shepherd's First Winter. It is available on Amazon in paperback or Kindle format. 

Believers 

Shepherd used his pocket knife to scrape frost from the window that overlooked the frozen meadow that stretched before the cabin.

“I think there are secrets here, Pal,” Shepherd said, “don’t you agree or are you one of them who will keep the secrets? They don‘t trust me, but I really care little about that. I didn‘t move here for the friendship. I came here to… find myself.”

“I think this land first tries to expel you as if a foreign object that sticks in the skin,” Shepherd said. “Once you stick it out for a while and determine you will stay it forms tissue around you so that the only way it can be removed is by digging you out.”

“New York eased me out like pushing a splinter to the surface and this land is trying to do the same. But you know something, Pal? It won’t work. I got no place else to go. I’m a lot like those natives. You find someplace no one in their right mind would dare go and claim it as yours.”

“Why want what everybody else wants, right, Pal?” Shepherd turned to Pal.

Pal lay in front of the fire with his chin on the floor looking up at Shepherd.

“I know, there I go again, being introspective,” Shepherd said and turned back to look out the window.

“I wonder how Daniel, Maggie, Nan, Ben, and Izzy are doing?” Shepherd said reflectively. “It must be good to have each other. It would be good to have another. I don‘t think that will ever be. I was always alone. The only difference between now and a year ago is concrete.”

“Hey, Pal,” Shepherd turned to him. “This is usually where the bottle comes in. I don’t want it. I don’t need it. People turn to things when others aren‘t there. The trick is when others aren‘t there to take the things away and you have to turn to yourself and God.”

“There is order to it all. A trillion random complexities must all line up together and function as designed. If one thing is out of kilter it all falls apart.”

“Is this making sense to you or are these things you already know?” Shepherd said. “The reason why I ask is that I’ve heard nothing from you. That is a sign of ignorance or approval.”

Shepherd paused.

“And he remains quiet,” Shepherd said. “At least make some noise.”

Pal made a muffled bark.

“Good,” Shepherd said. “You’re following and listening.”

“It is strange,” Shepherd said. “Nature inspires us to rest on God and humans turn us from Him and they say that He is an invention of man; atheism and agnosticism are the inventions. Somebody designed it all and flipped the switch.”

“Are you a believer yet?” Shepherd said. “I have the feeling I’m preaching to the choir.”

Morning Coffee; Episode 9

Mornin’ to ya! I like my coffee black and strong. 

Today, an old picture fell out of a desk drawer. It is, as best I can tell, 72 or 73 years old. It is a photo of my grandpa (my mother’s father), my dad, and my mom. The year is 1951 or 1952.

For some reason, I can’t remember why, Dad and Mom decided on a fishing vacation to Erieau, Ontario. It sat on a small peninsula jutting out into Lake Erie. 

This was the only vacation I recall our family going on, including my older sisters, Becky and Charlene. They were in their early teens. From that vacation onward, our family struggled financially. We never had the money for anything, not even enough for food and rent. 

Grandpa, Dad, and Mom, that's
what real fishermen are
supposed to look like. 
(Circa 1952)

We seldom did things as a family. Sometimes we went to the automobile races. There were the obligatory family gatherings. Maybe it is because of that, I recall so much about the vacation to Canada. My sisters’ memories were, “I remember going there but that’s it.”

I remember features of the small cabin we rented. 

I remember eating wild strawberries that grew near the lake’s shore.

I remember Grandma and Grandpa with us (Mom’s parents). 

I remember a one-wheel trailer we pulled.

I remember wading in Lake Erie only feet from our cabin with my sisters. They watched me.

I remember it was a pebble beach. 

I remember cold lake water.

I remember strong breezes.

I remember crossing the Ambassador Bridge. It scared me.

I remember on our return telling border agents that my name was Skippy Gosses. (I don’t know where that came from?) It caused a bit of a raucous between the guards and my dad. 

I remember my sisters buying a cheap souvenir. It was a picture of a house, with wrinkled aluminum foil behind the window openings. The picture was mounted on a picture frame. Our family had it for years, hanging it where everyone could see it. We liked art.

I remember motorboating with Dad out to just outside Erieau Bay to check on his illegal trout lines. When he saw the game wardens checking his lines, we returned to the cabin. 

I don’t know why my sisters don’t remember more of that vacation. They have now passed. My memory of them is bright. They really took good care of me. I’m sort of thinking they shielded me from the realities of a difficult family life. I don’t think I ever told them thanks.

Just something I’ve been thinking about.

Morining Coffee; Episode 9

Mornin’ to ya! I like my coffee black and strong. 

Many from my mom’s and dad’s generation thought the Second World War brought the United States out of the depression. Indeed within a short period, 17 million folks were either in the military or working directly for industry that supported the war effort. Taxes were high and rationing abounded.

After the war the economy continued to chug along but not for my mom or dad. Dad and Mom worked at the same factory. And in the early 50s, it closed down.

Dad took insurance settlement money awarded for a car accident and invested in a bar. The venture failed miserably. Dad’s gumption for life dissipated after the business failure. He blamed everything and everyone but himself.

Indeed, there were factors beyond his control. Nearby factories that were the bulk of his business went on strikes and others laid off workers. 

After a year of being drunk—every day, he landed a permanent job, yet he continued a bitter man. He saw others prosper and yet he did not.

To him and Mom, the solution appeared simple. To this day that solution nearly makes me nauseated. It was a war that preceded good times so another war was needed. To this day I recall these words spoken at different times by my mom and dad, “What this country needs is a good war.” The thoughtfulness of those words! Men, women, and children must die so others can live well!

My dad served in World War Two. Because of his age and physical condition, he was nowhere near combat. His overseas assignments were the Panama Canal and the Galapagos Islands. He had no real idea of the horrors of war.

To him, war was a two-year inconvenience. 

When I was in Basic Training as Viet Nam was heating up, I often wondered if Mom and Dad felt the same. Would my life be one of the lives sacrificed for a better economy? 

In their defense, I don’t think they gave real thought to what they were saying. We often spew words best left unspoken.

Something I’ve thought about. 

Morning Coffee; Episode 8

Mornin’ to ya! I like my coffee black and strong. 

At noon Eastern Time, the United States will swear in a new President. Many feel this will usher in a “golden age.” Is that so?

For the vast majority little will change. Our lot will not significantly improve. Economies, if healthy, and at best, grows and shrinks in never-ending cycles. Forces beyond the President dictate that.

I enjoy history—not so much the politics of it but rather the changes brought on by migration, industrialization, new discoveries, inventions, etc. 

It is difficult to imagine why anyone would desire to be a politician. A politician's decisions might mean the death of numbers beyond comprehension. Why would anyone want that responsibility? Even a vote in Congress could trigger the same chilling results.

It is also equally disturbing to comprehend what drives a person to want that power—the power of life or death for perhaps thousands or millions of people. 

It takes hubris, ego, arrogance, and even great narcissism to be a politician. The traits that disqualify one from governing over others are the very traits they all possess to an alarming degree. Do people really want compassionate leaders?

Great effort is taken to make them appear compassionate, caring, sympathetic, intelligent, wise, etc. 

An ancient king wrote that ‘man dominates man to his harm.’ It is one of those undeniable truths proved by history. 

Just something to think about.

Shepherd's First Winter; Instinct, Episode 17

This is the seventeenth episode of the novel Shepherd's First Winter. It is available on Amazon in paperback or Kindle format. 

Instinct

A deep freeze was on its way. The chatter on the radio said it would last for weeks. Shepherd was comforted by the news. He was convinced the creature was human and no human would dare come out in such weather let alone survey it.

“We will be safe, Pal,” Shepherd said. “Do you want to learn how to play chess?”

The cold was beyond what he imagined. The outside looked like another planet not capable of sustaining earthly life. Nothing moved, only the wind. And the wind brought more cold and loneliness.

Shepherd sat and thought. He was at last content. He recalled the bustle of life, that faster-the-better attitude that dominated him at one time. There was always the challenge to stay ahead, to be first, and ahead of it all. He was the first to be a vice president in his firm before the age of thirty. That was not enough. The thrill of the accomplishment lasted ten minutes.

“For some reason, I lost the edge,” Shepherd thought. “I don’t know why. Maybe it is as simple as it isn’t who I am or I ran out of gas. Whatever it was, that person no longer exists. And the sad and brutal reality is that where I was no one really remembers or cares what I did. Someone will say, ‘Who did this last year? Well, it had to be somebody… whatever.’”

“I wonder about Zoey. I hope she is doing well. It was going nowhere. We really had nothing. A marriage would have been more like a merger. She and Benhurst would make a good conglomeration. Funny, they really are funny. How would Zoey react to this cold? She would be worried about what it might do to her skin. Benhurst would have hung himself long ago… Not enough action for him. I suppose a grizzly chasing him through the woods might start the adrenaline flowing.”

“Pal,” Shepherd said. “You should meet my friends. You would… well, you’d have no opinion of them. There’s really nothing there to form an opinion over. They’re pretty empty. You’d sniff them and five minutes later forgot what you sniffed.”

“Make no mistake about it, Pal. I was one of them. I was in the thick, but I checked out. Do you want to know the truth, the bold truth? I could no longer keep up. I had to get away, Pal. If I didn’t I eventually would have been swallowed up. I’d turned out a failure. I reached my plateau early. I got out at a good time. I still have my money. I guess that was always me. I could see things coming before anyone. I saw my end coming before anyone else. They all think I left when on top. The truth is I was looking at the rollercoaster ride down. In two years everybody will be broke and looking for work.”

“Pal, I have instincts. Even here I have them. We are a lot alike in that way. I know what you are thinking and you know what I’m thinking. That’s why I won’t teach you how to play chess.”

Morning Coffee; Episode 7

Mornin’ to ya! I like my coffee black and strong. 

I noticed an obituary in the newspaper of a woman who graduated from my high school. She graduated a couple of years before me. I didn’t recall her, so like we all do, I found my old school annual to see if it jogged my memory.

It didn’t.

However, I continued to look at some old pictures. 

I sometimes think of someone I may have interacted with or a person who, for some reason, decides to stroll through my mind. 

While strolling through those pages lost in time, I came across pictures depicting everyday life in school. Some of them showed kids acting foolish, mugging, posing, and just being caught in the moment. One stood out. It came from my freshman year, and I was not in it. 

The picture was taken at a record hop or sock hop. (Do they even use those names anymore?) It shows a boy alone in the middle of a dance routine. Kids are standing to the side, watching him.

His name continues to stand as a mystery. I remember him from seeing him around school. He was at least a couple of years ahead of me. The crowd he ran around with were the hoods--in other words, they were cool. He greased and slicked his hair back, laying in a mass of blonde curls. A good-looking guy who dressed neatly. It always appeared to me he was shy—but here he was dancing on his own and everybody watching.

I can’t remember the song he danced to. It was rock and roll and he knocked it out of the park. It was incredibly choreographed. His moves were crisp, sharp, and timed to the music. He seemed inside his own orb and we were only allowed to gain entrance. 

To me, it can only be described as electric. It would have to be placed right up there with a winning touchdown, a last-second winning basket, or a walk-off homer. Maybe better—it lasted the entire length of the song. It was on a stage. Everyone stood and gazed. Every guy there wished he was him and every gal there wanted to be with him.

I don’t know what ever happened to the boy. But he had a shining moment that stands out in my memory. And, yes, I still wish I was that guy that night filled with electricity. 

I’m glad he took the time to share that moment with us. It is such a good memory. 

Shepherd's First Winter; A Night Visitor, Episode 16

This is the sixteenth episode of the novel Shepherd's First Winter. It is available on Amazon in paperback or Kindle format. 

A Night Visitor

“I’m a friend!” he shouted. He had a rifle and let it drop. “Are you Shepherd?”

Shepherd’s muscles relaxed, but he held the rifle steady.

“My name is Dennis. We met a few weeks ago in Ruby. You are Daniel’s friend.”

Shepherd eased the rifle allowing it to fall to his side.

Dennis was burly with a round plump face perturbing from the fury hood of his parka.

“Come in, Dennis,” Shepherd said. “And get warm.”

Dennis removed his parka as he stepped inside. “I suppose you are wondering what I’m doing here.”

“Yes,” Shepherd said. “I could have shot you.”

“There was a report of the creature we were talking about at the council,” Dennis said.

“Go over to the fire,” Shepherd said.

Dennis quickly walked to the fire and rubbed his hands together. “My snow machine got wedged in a gully. I saw it and tracked it into the woods across the plain. It came to your cabin and went behind it.”

“I heard it,” Shepherd said. “There were footsteps in the snow and then another, that must have been you.”

“I should have called out when I approached your cabin,” Dennis said.

Shepherd walked to the kitchen. “We must get something in you. You like eggs, biscuits, sausage, and gravy?”

“Sure,” Dennis said, “but I have nothing on me to pay you with.”

“You are a guest,” Shepherd said.

Dennis warmed himself and Shepherd prepared a meal for both of them.

As they ate they talked.

“What brought you out on a night like this?” Shepherd said.

“We in the village got a call on short-wave about a dog killed east of Ruby. Like the one at Daniel’s. Five of us headed out on our snow machines. I sighted something moving south through the woods. I turned off my trail. I drove for 30 minutes. I could go no faster than a couple of miles per hour. I thought about leaving my snow machine and starting off on foot, but I stayed with the snow machine. I followed huge tracks. I even thought I caught it in my headlight. Bam! I fall into a gully. I couldn’t get my snow machine out so I grabbed my rifle and started following the tracks.”

“You say large tracks?” Shepherd said.

“Yes,” Dennis said. “With large strides. Only two feet. I saw it stop at the edge of the trees. It acted tired. Suddenly it started across the open toward your place. The thought crossed my mind to shoot, but if I miss, it may hit your cabin.”

“We can climb on my snow machine and follow it,” Shepherd suggested.

“The woods are even thicker beyond your cabin,” Dennis said. “It is too far ahead of us. We could never catch up to it.”

“Spend the night, Dennis,” Shepherd said. “I have a radio. I can get a hold of somebody in Ruby and let them know of your whereabouts and you‘re okay.”

“I am exhausted,” Dennis said. “I’ll take you up on spending the night.”

“There is a bed in the loft or you can sleep on the couch,” Shepherd said.

“The couch will be fine,” Dennis said.

“What do you think it is?” Shepherd said.

Dennis hesitated.

“Dennis,” Shepherd said.

“Amoruk can be many things,” Dennis said. “It changes. They say it can change before your eyes.”

Shepherd leaned back in his chair.

“I know that people from the cities think it is foolish,” Dennis said. “Such things don’t live around people. They want to be left alone. It lives on the lonely and alone. That’s how it survives.”

Shepherd slowly nodded. “You saw it, I saw it, and Pal saw it. You get some sleep, Dennis. I’m going to stay awake for a while.”

Shepherd sat in his chair facing the door and Pal assumed his position in front of the door.

The next morning Shepherd got a call on the radio that a friend of Dennis would come out to get him. Shepherd and Dennis had breakfast together. Soon someone in a snow machine came for Dennis.

Shepherd pondered trying to put together a puzzle from pieces that may not belong to each other. During the briefness of daylight, there was a suspicion overlapped by the imagination when the darkness came and brought unsettled thoughts. Shepherd read and Pal stood vigil.

Morning Coffee; Episode 6

A few days ago I had a phone conversation with a nephew on mywife’s side of the family. He is about thirteen years younger than me. He’s a teacher in his last year.

Some of our conversation had to do with the change in kids, which really means the change in parents. He expressed how much the state-mandated in the classroom having little to do with actual education. That’s a rabbit hole I intend on not going down.

We began talking about the teachers who influenced us the most. To our surprise, it was the same teacher, but different schools. 

The journey of my nephew and I was much the same; marginal students at best. Suddenly when we got to his classroom the lightbulb went off—we excelled.

My sixth-grade teacher and my nephew was Tom Bales. He died a couple years back. 

I could likely write a few thousand words on the man. He taught me his first year of teaching. And I saw him only one time after our last day of school in 1960. 

He showed up at my uncle's funeral. We looked at each other from across the room. It had been at least 30 years since we last saw each other. We knew each other immediately. 

We talked about the class I was in. He remembered everybody. Not only that, but he remembered our struggles. I could tell that the plight of some students still affected him.

Do they make them like that anymore?

Just something and someone I thought about.

Morning Coffee; Episode 5

Mornin’ to ya! I like my coffee black and strong. 

Many moons ago I took a course in journalism. It has become the basis for how I consume news and write to this day. 

One of the first things taught was how to frame a news article. In the first paragraph answer the questions who, what, where, when, and why—and sometimes how. The idea was to spare the reader the details. Tell them the news. The details can be given starting with the second paragraph.

Secondly, we learned how to craft a headline. I won’t go into all the details but it had to grab the reader. It has to be what the article was about. It had to be framed in such a way that the reader would remember it. Often, a writer will spend more time on a headline than writing the story.

For years now, I have consumed my news online. All newspapers have gone to digital formats. 

Back in the day when the paper was delivered by a paperboy or picked up at a newsstand, the newspaper cared very little what you did with the newspaper after the purchase. Of course, they hoped you used it as a reliable source and thus earn your patronage. Writing had to be crisp, fresh, accurate, and good.

If a reporter buried those important first paragraph questions somewhere down in the story the reader lost interest. A headline might read “Bank Robbed.” The reader wants to know those who, what, where, when, and why questions—ASAP. How disappointed the reader might be if arriving at the final paragraph to find out the bank was 600 miles away or that someone defrauded the bank (not a real robbery). 

Currently, nearly all news sources bury the very things I, as a reader, am looking for. I recently read a story about a recruit coming to a college team that I follow. I didn’t find out who it was until the last paragraph. 

One might wonder why the change in tried and true journalistic practices? The news outlets want to keep you engaged and on the page as long as they possibly can. The reader is exposed to more ads and pop-ups. The more the readers are exposed to, the more the website makes.

Just something that gets in my craw.